


Bangkok Synergy

by Ebyru



Series: Phil and Stu Bromancity [2]
Category: The Hangover (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Cliche, First Time, Flirting, Fluffy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, M/M, Movie Spoilers, Not Beta Read, Pining, Slash, Snark, childish humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 02:47:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ebyru/pseuds/Ebyru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He wasn't kidding when he said it was right up against his scrotum.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bangkok Synergy

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta’d, sorry. Spoilers for the second film, and then the ending is AU.
> 
> There's some angst sprinkled in, but there's a whole lotta fluff in the end.

Phil wasn’t kidding when he said the prescription pad was right up against his scrotum. There’s a pubic hair curled at the bottom of one of the pages when Stu goes to write up a prescription. His patient looks at him funny because he can’t help but laugh --but he doesn’t let them in on the joke, and he doesn’t warn them about it, because Stu knows Phil. And knows he’s clean; that there won’t be any smell to speak of. No sign of his mischief.

They’ve seen each other naked a few times after drunken binges. Even after barfing his brains out in a bath tub, turning on the water to force it down the drain, and praying it doesn’t clog up the plumbing, Phil didn’t smell half-bad.

It’s a miracle, is what it is.

 

*

 

Later that day, he's meeting Phil for brunch and he knew even before he storms out that he would be angry about the lack of bachelor party. Something about how he kept asking: “you're really happy, huh?” told Stu there was something else - besides the fact that it was in _Bangkok_ \- that bothered him. It's almost as if, had Stu made any sign of being unhappy, he would have kidnapped him and hidden him away, like he used to. Like how he would bring Stu up in his treehouse when the bullies followed him home.

He's always trying to protect Stu from the world, and that’s why he can’t help but love potty-mouthed Phil.

 

*

 

The first person to wake him up when he finds himself, ironically, asleep in the bathtub is Phil. He knows it’s a bad sign when Doug isn’t the first one up and around; and he's so groggy it doesn’t hit him right away that the left side of his face is burning like someone put out a lit cigarette.

Phil is speaking to him with the serious voice he only uses in very critical situations; when there's nothing in his head but trying to keep Stu from having a panic attack (like that time Stu stabbed himself in the hand accidentally with a fork, and the blood made him cry until he nearly died of asphyxiation). It’s hard to say who was more afraid sitting in that hospital, but Phil never left his side in his room, and Doug came in and out as often as he needed but Phil always told him: “I got this, don’t worry.”

He says, “you’re gonna freak out, but it’s gonna be okay.” And for a there-and-gone second, he almost believes it.

It’s a surprise that Alan doesn’t laugh for all of his awkward behaviour; that Phil is the one to break first. But it _is_ pretty stupid of Stu to try and wipe it off with dirty sink water.

 

 

 

Afterward, the monkey scares the shit out of them all, but Phil is _again_ in front of the danger with Stu pressed behind him. His hands are out as if to shield Stu with everything he's got, which is nothing but his body in this case, and Stu hates when he treats him like he’s still this fragile, little kid crying over scraped knees (even in times when it feels true).

Phil’s arms are stretched out, near Stu’s crotch, to protect him from the monkey that fell from the ceiling and went on the shower rod. And the only thought that comes to Stu’s mind, after hysterical fear, is what it would feel like if he moved forward and let Phil cup him through his pants. Would he pull away, or would he pay it any mind at all, considering what they’ve been through over  the decades?  Maybe they’d both enjoy it…And he promptly cuts that train off because Phil is married with a kid, and he's a soon-to-be groom.

 

*

 

It’s a testament to how much their friendship means that Phil wants to know all about what happened to Stu in the chardonnay room. Once again, Stu is hit with questions of whether or not he was alone there; was Phil on the sidelines watching him with Kimmy? Did he like what he saw? Was it her or him or both that turned him on?

And he can’t make his throat work, so Phil asks more questions, trying to nudge Stu over the good things he did with this hot lady. But she's a prostitute, _again_ , and he's meant to get married. _Again_. So it doesn’t make him feel any better with or without the memories.

The moment she says _load_ \- and they all know what it means, but Phil and Stu are too in denial to believe it could happen – the situation rolls down a steep hill and crashes into a pile of manure. The boner that was kinda-maybe-sorta growing in Stu's pants withers to this little seed, and he wishes he were that kid hiding from bullies in Phil's backyard again.

 

He's weeping like a child outside, not because of cheating, but because the first time he had sex with a man, it wasn’t his best friend: it was some thai ladyboy who can't love him, who he paid, and who he doesn’t remember experiencing it with. 

The feelings come out in chunks of distress, and he blubbers, and Phil is there - as always - patting his back and stroking him through it. He sees the panic again, recognizes it, and pre-empts it before Stu can choke himself on his tears. Alan doesn’t do much behind him, but at least he doesn’t interfere in the process - because it is a _very_ delicate process. And over the years only Phil has mastered how to calm Stu down when he gets like this.

Phil says, “Just forget, and it goes away”, and Stu's mind chimes in unhelpfully with all the things that could translate to. Friendly truths; a hopeful romantic liaison ("Just forget the guilt, and we can fuck around too.")? His sobs are a distant memory now because Phil’s still rubbing his back, and it feels nice. And he's always touched Stu more than Doug or anyone else. And why hasn’t Stu ever noticed it until now? He has to forcefully push his mind into a safer box where it remembers family and weddings are important; that he can't just sleep with his best friend because they both want it. He’s not even sure they both do.

Stu nods to Phil's soft murmurs and encouragements, and he adds, “In time, it’ll happen.”

Stu feels so sad about that, suddenly. It sounds like Phil has experience at waiting for memories to go away. It sounds like Phil waited a long time for his feelings for  _Stu_ to go away, but they still probably haven’t. Not yet. And maybe that’s why he can feel the warmth in everything Phil does for him: consoling, bickering, pushing away bad relationships. All he wants is for Stu to be happy, and he'd probably prefer if it was with him accomplishing it.

Frozen with this thought, Stu’s phone rings, and it all comes crashing around him. The tears flow again, but Phil shakes him and reminds him they have to _save_ someone. It’s not just about the wedding and their family. (It might not even be about that anymore once they get through this.)

 

*

 

There was never a moment Stu wanted to cry more than when Phil's entire body flew back from the force of the shot that went through him. It’s so painful to watch that all he can do is stare in relief when Alan runs to his side first, and Phil shoves him away angrily because he’s said something stupid. There’s still Phil in that broken guy. Under the wound and the blood, Phil is still alive. And it makes Stu so desperately grateful. 

Alan is more useful with injuries, despite the nonsense he spews, but Phil still latches on to Stu's leg and uses him to stand up. Stu, the one who's already shaken, his ego bruised, his face a mess with dry tears. Phil still expects to count on Stu, the fragile, pathetic man, instead of the one who _could_ handle this situation. (It doesn’t stop Stu from screaming like a banshee and running away when he sees the hole the gun made; this is Phil after all! He's never been hurt like this, even with all the shit he talks.)

And Alan is there, still, but Phil is shouting for Stu to “get your ass back over here”, like he's the anchor holding them together. That they need each other, and that’s all that matters.

Stu guesses, deep down, it’s the truth.

 

*

 

There nothing left to salvage: they can’t find Teddy and Stu feels terrible for every disaster he managed before the wedding. He knows Lauren won't forgive him if she finds out he slept with a ladyboy, and he feels like she shouldn't be forgiven because he'll just end up doing it again.

He’s sitting across from Phil, and it's more intimate than when they spent a night sleeping in the same bed because Stu revealed he was afraid of lightning. That it killed his dog. That night, Phil had just laid on his back, staring at the ceiling. Stu asked every couple seconds if he was asleep yet, and he'd always answer _no_. Until Stu fell asleep, and then he let himself drift into slumber, putting the blanket up to their noses to hide from the flashes through the windows.

He’s sitting across from Phil, and it feels right to tell him, “I have a demon in me.” It sounds ridiculous the moment it's out, but Phil doesn’t laugh or deny it. He just shrugs, keeps his eyes locked on Stu's and says, “So what?”

And that is something awfully big. Intimate. Distressing even. Stu can see it in Phil's eyes, the way they're telling him: “If I were Lauren, I'd still marry you after this, and after Vegas too. And anything else you could throw at me.” It's a lot more compassion and loyalty than Stu expects, and it's possibly (probably) the match that lights his thoughts, making him realize that Teddy is stuck in an elevator. All you ever need is the right push.

It’s so clear at that moment - how much they mean to each other - that the fog inside his mind just goes away, and he can finally fuckin' _think_ for once in his life without second-guessing everything.

He knows what he has to do.

 

*

 

They forgive him, and Lauren’s father stops calling him weird names because he's not becoming his son-in-law anymore. Teddy promises to never eat ruffies again, and to keep the rest of his fingers safe. But best of all, in spite of how her family treats him, Lauren understood right away why he called the wedding off (he didn’t even need to mention Kimmy).

She sat him down in the hotel bar, holding both his hands. “You love him, right? I had a feeling. I didn’t want to call the wedding off because I was trying to keep you away, but I couldn’t help but notice how he's always gravitating towards you.”

“Y-you, you knew— _how?_ ” Stu squeezes her hands, his eyes tearing up.

Lauren shrugs, smiling. “Does he know?”

“I haven't said anything,” says Stu, wincing. “It's harder when it's someone you've been platonic buddies with for over ten years.”

She nods, her smile getting brighter. “He wants you back. I'd say go for it.”

“He's married, Lauren,” laughs Stu, glancing around the bar when he realizes how loud he said it. Phil waves from the entrance, slowly coming over. “Oh, shit. He's here.”

“I called him,” she says, giggling when Stu gapes like a fish out of water. “He needs to know.”

Stu shakes his head. “I wish you weren’t so perfect. You make me feel bad for doing this to you,” he whispers. 

She stands from her bar stool, pulling her gold purse over her shoulder. “One of us deserves a shot at real happiness.”

Kissing Phil on her way out, he takes her spot and slaps Stu on the back. “She took it well, I'm guessing.”

“Really, _really_ well.” Stu waves the bartender over, avoiding eye contact. “I have to tell you something.”

“Two rum and cokes,” says Phil to the bartender. It should maybe scare Stu that he knew exactly what to order. He turns to Stu. “What? Did you fuck another tranny? Was I involved this time?” There's laughter in his voice.

Stu clears his throat. “She let me go because she knows I’m in love with someone else.” He scrubs his eyes underneath his glasses, leaning forward on his elbows. He turns abruptly, facing Phil. “You.”

Phil blows a raspberry, laughing until he gulps his drink. When he swallows, and Stu isn’t laughing or looking away, his face getting redder every time Phil looks from his drink to his face, he realizes he's not kidding. He splutters, “Wait, what? No, no. You're straight, except for Kimmy. But you were wasted! You always do dumb shit when you're drunk!”

“I also never tell you what I'm thinking every time you protect me, Phil.” Stu smiles awkwardly, one side of his mouth lifting. “I'm in love with you, and I get it if you don't want me back.” He scoffs, taking a sip of his own rum. “I get it. You're married and happy. And I'm... _me_.”

“Shut the fuck up,” mutters Phil. 

It comes out sharp despite how low Phil's voice is. Stu can't help but snap his gaze to his face to see if he's ruined their friendship; if he and Lauren both read Phil's actions wrong. “I- I'm sorry. I didn't mean--”

“No, _fuck_. You don't get to confess after I've seen you fuck everything under the sun and never once consider me. I tried, you know. I _tried_ to make you go for me. I wanted you every night for _years_.” He laughs, and it’s mostly unhappy. “Jesus, other guys were jerking off to Pamela Anderson, but not me. I had a boner for my best friend with a fear of storms and severe anxiety.”

Stu aches for Phil; it hurts so much to just listen that he has to tear his gaze away. “I’m sorry, Phil. I didn't know--”

“Yeah, well, fuck this.” He knocks back his drink and slams a bill on the table. “I'll be upstairs, fucking my wife,” he grits out.

 

*

 

Stu is so drunk that a waiter brings him up to his room, unlocks the door, pulls off his shoes for him and even tucks him in. He doesn’t even take the tip that Stu offers him; he just sneaks back out and down where he was.

He’s mumbling insults at himself, wiggling across his bed because, as usual, the booze made him horny. And he hates that the person he wants to rut against is the reason he had to drink himself into a stupor; he hates that he never followed his gut, and told him sooner. That he hadn’t _noticed_ sooner.

Mid-hump against what feels like a giant boob (a pillow most likely), there’s a knock at the door that Stu barely hears over his growl-moans. He grumbles out something he hopes sounds frightening and final, but it must be a failure because the door creeps open.

He turns with an eloquent, “Huh?” and swears he recognizes that suit from earlier when he was sitting at the bar. Whoever it is pushes him back down against the bed and shushes him, taking off his glasses and putting them on the nightstand. He buries his face in more giant boobs, and a warm, welcome weight settles next to him, still making soothing noises. He drifts away, whimpering, “I ruined my friendship and marriage in one swoop.”

Stu thinks he hears, “No you didn’t, Dr. Faggot.” But the weight continues to rub down his back, and he passes out for the night.

*

The morning is another story.

Sounds of death and groaning fill his ears, and he wants to scream _shut up my brain is bleeding_ , but then that would make the headache worse. And, _oh_ , the sounds are coming from him. Of _course_ they are.

He feels too hot to live, and throws the blankets off, but ends up mostly tangled in them and something else. It’s warm too, and heavy, and he wants it off until he realizes Phil came to sleep in his bed and has his arms around his hips. _He’s a cuddler_ , his mind adds. And Stu would totally use it for blackmail material, except he really likes it.

Phil groans, “I can feel you staring at my eyelids. Don’t make this fuckin’ creepy.”

“It kind of is, though. Isn’t it?” says Stu, wiggling to lie down in the circle of Phil’s arms.

“It really isn’t,” he deadpans back. “I wasn’t kidding about liking you since the lightning incident.” Phil opens one eye, then the other. His hair is a mess, and Stu finds it endearing.

“So…” Stu wishes he had his glasses on so he could tell Phil’s expressions apart, but the lenses might just aggravate the knife that’s stabbing through his brain in millimetre movements. “What’s gonna happen?”

Phil slides out the arm pinned under Stu’s body, tilting his head to get a better look at the tattoo. “I think you should keep this. I like it.”

“You do?” says Stu, completely forgetting the question he asked--which was probably Phil’s goal.

“I think it gives you an edge,” he says, leaning closer. “It makes you look hot, Stu.”

“Y-yeah?” he asks, licking his suddenly dry lips.

Phil makes a rumbling sound, drawing Stu closer on the bed. “Yeah, and if you keep licking your lips I’m gonna kiss you.”

He nearly stops the nervous movement, but his tongue is sliding out before he processes what’s going on, and Phil is on him. Not a moment too soon.

Pinning Stu down, he licks into his mouth, grinding what can only be a broom handle or a cock against Stu’s thigh with an insistence that could win court cases. Stu’s not afraid to whine when his tongue is sucked in, when hands press against his sides and skim underneath his shirt, get inside his boxers and squeeze the base of him. There’s no shame in loving the way your best friend maps out your body like he’s been studying it forever, but never had the chance to feel every bare inch.

Phil rocks his hips down while his hand moves up Stu’s shaft, the pre-come supplying a filthy coat of lubrication. So much, that Stu almost wants to stop Phil from stroking. Almost. And then Phil bites down on his bottom lip, growling like some wildebeest, more eager for it than Stu could have imagined in a porn version of their fantasies. Shaking with pleasure, Stu’s breath comes out choppy and rushed because Phil won’t stop kissing him and doing these aggressively experienced _things_ to his tongue.

Stu rides the current, the friction, and Phil pushes his pants and underwear down his hips so it’s wet skin rubbing and leaving a mess all over them. He forces Stu’s arms above his head, and kisses every sound that comes out of his mouth; and then sucks at his neck, thrusting like he can fuckin’ _climb_ inside Stu if he imagines it enough. For a second he stops, just rolling his hips in circles, grinning down at Stu like this is all it ever needed to be, and he’s mouthing those three words –

It’s definitely a blackout moment, worse than when Alan ruffied them. Twice. Stu’s spilling against both their stomachs, and Phil takes a moment to just stare as the white spurts oozing out of him. He moves back in to ravage Stu’s mouth, humping like it’s an Olympic sport where coming means getting the gold medal.

Stu is panting as Phil squeezes both his hands, his mouth open on a silent cry, and his back curled inward. He covers them in his release, and if Stu could get out of Phil’s death-grip, he’d be spreading it all over Phil’s body, marking him and proving that this isn’t just a phase: this is what it’s always going to be.

Sticky deadweight, also known as Phil, collapses onto Stu and knocks the wind out of him. He wheezes, and Phil forces himself to roll off, but he keeps their legs tangled, their leg hair sticky with sweat and static.

Phil throws a hand over his eyes, saying, “When you’re sober, we’re doing that again.” He laughs perversely. “Or maybe after we take a shower together.”

Stu nods dumbly, his lips bitten and red, but feeling better than he could have dreamed. He likes this giddy, comfortable tingle that’s drifting through him like a stream. He likes Phil, loves him, and enjoys his company – now in more ways than one.

He’s feeling sappy with his orgasm, and puts his lips to Phil’s ear, saying, “I love you now more than ever.”

And Phil ruins it by slapping a hand covered in come over his mouth, grunting out, “Clean it up.”

**Author's Note:**

> comments appreciated. :)


End file.
